Sunday, May 06, 2007

Daughterfuckers

Some men are just meandaughterfuckerspleased as punch to gouge out holeswhere there should be none,at least not yet.

And yet, for some reason,Little Princess is expectedto burp politely, behind her hand,never let the gas escape, (Cry Rape!)“Oh, excuse me, so sorry!”

Do not become, my dear,so destroyed in your soulthat you will spread your legsand point, to that spot, (Crotch Rot!)“Ouch, it hurts me.”

Young Ladies must cross their legsat the ankles and tuck them, (Fuck Them!)ever-so-politely to the sidebetter so to hidethe oozing pain that threatens topuddle in plain sight.

Him, if you care to convict,we will feed and waterand send to schooland give recreation, (Abomination!)and release, fouler than any fart,to fuck her again by proxy.

Just because he used the same partsthat make love to your darling,and grow children for your garden,does not make his act sex.Talking about what he did is notlike ending prayers with “Shit”instead of AMEN.

OhHellNo!

The sacrilege has been doneby that dirty daughterfucker,gentle nights sacrificedon the altar of his prick.

So do not tell me I may not,in polite company,speak of rapeand incestand pornographyand the thousand horrors visitedupon a thousand little girls (andboys, them too,scionfuckers making thisan equal opportunity tragedy)don’t you dare.

I am not shutting up!

And upon the tiny vaginasripped open way too soon,by the blood smeared sheets,baptized with the tears of a thousand nights,knife in hand if necessary,to cut out the tongueof anyone who daresto silence her and her and all the hers (andhims, I don’t forget)I do solemnly swearI will listen to the quiet words,whispered into my ear,as she faces the other way,because she has been toldgood girls don’t say those things (andbig boys don’t cry, now, Son)

You can use it, of course. I appreciate the link back, as well. I know how you feel about the poem. I just grinned and grinned and cried and cried when I wrote it. I feel like I gave birth to a beautiful damaged baby.